Expenditures
by Creed Pilosophia
Summary: A story about life payments that four men have embarked on when each of them lost and endured. When they were given four letters bearing mysterious questions, their search for the one who handed them these letters brought them together.


**Fanfiction: **"_Expenditures_"

**Author:** Creed Pilosophia

**Themes: **Angst, Satire, Spirituality and Crime

**Main Focus: **The four men of Saiyuki and their pasts with additional twists and memories thrown in as an appetizer. The plot is of AU content. I also added an original character to represent my views and insights.

**Other details: **Some instances here are taken from Jostein Gardner's "_Sophie's World_." I'm talking about the mysterious letters.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **I don't intend to put a 'disclaimer' since this is _fanfiction_ and it is only reasonable to assume that every story posted in this site already has a disclaimer sticker on its package.

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**1. Kouryuu**

His eyes blurred when he choked back the blood.

This was the first time he found himself bleeding. He's been doing this for many years now and his gag reflexes improve so far whenever he stabs down two of his fingers inside his mouth. Perhaps it was too much pressure. Perhaps he was too eager. In any case, he was choking blood. It tasted like bitter metal. He didn't like it. He turned away from the toilet bowl for a while and run down water through his throat. When he felt the familiar response, he turned back to the bowl and vomited tiny bits of his last meal.

He was twelve when it started...when Koumyou-sama died. Years after and now he's twenty-three, he kept the bad habit, next to his smoking problem. But it wasn't altogether problematic that he inhaled nicotine and exhaled carbon monoxide. It soothes him to smoke. And this particular habit of his every time he goes to the bathroom offers the same luxury of comfort. It was only now that he knew the condition he had is an eating disorder.

He didn't give a rat's ass.

Genjyo Sanzo, the exalted high priest who carries the Maten scripture, has many things to worry about and bulimia is the least of them. First he is angry at the world. Second is the other monks were bothering him about the usual priestly stuff. And he's only been back from exile. He's pissed and he's bleeding through the mouth. He cussed inwardly and flushed down the toilet. Then he washed his hands and face. He tried to avoid looking at the mirror and then he bangs the door against the wall as he entered back to his room.

He glanced outside to see the elder monks gathering under the tree to talk bullshit among themselves. Any minute now and someone will call him out there so he could impart to them a meaningful sermon.

"Ah, fuck me." Sanzo muttered. He didn't quite mean it. His throat still hurts and his tongue feels heavy and dry. He sat down on the bed and tried to concentrate on entering into a quiet zone. He would meditate anytime it's allowable. He needed this now. He needed to be away.

"Sanzo-sama?"

"Not now." _Not ever. No._

"We thought we could use some of your—"

"I say it only once so don't make me say it again." An extra death glare would make this more convincing but he failed to do so since his head drooped down to his palms, holding it in place. His eyes were closed.

When he was sure he was alone again, he started to cough. He tasted the blood. What a fuzz. He already knew he was too weak to protect the only man he cared about who died before him. Now this is rich, he is bleeding. What's the goddamn deal anyway? Isn't he inferior enough?

"Believe in thyself." Sanzo was surprised that he was saying that aloud. Did he really mean it? He must. It's what's keeping him together these days, the belief that he is better off without the rest of the world, that he is strong.

But he's not.

Sanzo first thought of purging again but the contents of his stomach have been emptied earlier. So he chose the second option and grabbed a cancer stick.

He reached down from under his mattress. He could make out the outline of the rectangular box of his Marlboro. Then something else.

"What now?" He eyed the folded piece of paper grudgingly.

He first lit his cigarette and breathed in the poison. He took three hits before he decided to look at the paper again.

_WHO ARE YOU?_ It simply said.

Sanzo replied aloud, "I'm not fucking happy, that's what."

Then he looked at the words closer as if there could be something else but those three words just stared back at him without enthusiasm.

"I'm Sanzo," he crumpled the paper and threw it across the other side of the room.

Wait, he wasn't Sanzo. It was only a title passed down. Before all of these, he was only an orphan kid whom Koumyou-sama took in. Before that, he knew nothing about himself. He didn't want to know.

"Who am I...?"

Sanzo finished three sticks after an hour. He walked back to the window and saw the elder monks going back to their rooms. It's almost dark outside. He looked at the crumpled paper on the floor and picked it up. He left it on his table. He went to the pantry to get something to eat for his early dinner.

Later that night, he was in the toilet again, staring at his vomit, staring at the evidence of his shameless nothingness. His tears stained his cheeks. His fingers wet with saliva. It's been years and he's still angry. He's still so weak.

**xXx**

_They asked him about his mommy._

_He was outside the monastery, holding his prayer beads and an umbrella on the other hand. He was chanting what the monks told him to chant. It was pouring hard that night. People threw in some alms even though he wasn't really begging._

_Two girls approached him. They asked him what he's doing here under the rain and where his mommy was. Then they said he was so cute and they started fondling his hair and touching his face. He stepped back and timidly bowed down his head. _

"_Kouryuu, come inside now."_

_He looked behind him to see the kind, smiling face of his master Koumyou-sama. Kouryuu run back to him, soaking wet on the feet. Koumyou-sama, to his surprise, knelt down and took one foot to dry it with his white garments._

"_No," Kouryuu protested. "Those robes are sacred."_

_The old man smiled. "Ah, not to worry. You can't have wet feet inside."_

_He raised the other foot up and wiped it. Kouryuu blushed._

"_There, all better?"_

_The young boy peered at his teacher's face and nodded._

"_Now, go pray inside and not out here. The rain is unforgiving tonight."_

_Kouryuu took the old man's hand as they walked back inside._

"_The only best pilgrim in the world, my boy, is where you see the light and follow it." Koumyou-sama was saying, the tiny slits of his eyes disappearing as his smile widens. Kouryuu listened._

"_You're my pilgrim," he reluctantly said. His master only laughed in amusement._

"_Oh dear, what will you do once my light is gone?"_

_Kouryuu didn't answer or he already knew the answer but dreaded how to say it. The only light he knows is Koumyou-sama. Without him, the unbearable thought of losing him, brings darkness to his world._

**xXx**

Sanzo woke up with a jolt.

He looked at the moon hanging on the sky outside and wiped the sweat dripping from his forehead. Then he lay back down and closed his eyes.

Darkness, the smoldering depths of it.

He jerked up again.

Cancer stick or purge. He chose the former.

As he was getting his box of Marlboro, he saw the crumpled paper resting nonchalantly on his table.

_WHO ARE YOU? _The words provoked as he opened it again.

_He knew the answer._

"I'm nothing."

_Without him...I'm nothing._

**2. Sanzo**

"But what about the ceremony, Sanzo-sama?"

Sanzo glared harder than he ever did his whole life. Do they really expect him to keep up the monk act after they witnessed how intolerable those people were? The damn lot of them, not just the monks but the villagers as well, they make him hit the walls. He's been bouncing his ass around, taking in all the stuff they ask him to do. They want him to hold gatherings for spiritual purposes. They want him to lecture the wicked and dine with the poor. His master did all those things. He was a kind man. The current Sanzo is an asshole and he's not going to apologize for it.

"Sanzo-sama, where are you going now?"

"In the toilet, care to wipe my ass for me after I go?"

He didn't have to wait for any answer. He was hurrying back to his room. He didn't use the bathroom. Purging wouldn't make any difference now...neither is a cigarette but what the hell, he lit one anyway.

Just when the elder monks thought he was locked inside his room again, Sanzo stumbled on them, talking about him. He hid in view and listened.

"What an atrocious fellow Sanzo-sama is. Hmph! I can't believe the late Koumyou-sama allowed such an immature boy to carry on the holy title."

"He is a complete disgrace. I can't believe that we have to put up with him."

"Well, he's a good leader when he puts his mind to it. But yeah, he's a real pain. He can't seem to function without that unnecessary arrogant attitude of his."

"Still can't believe he's our Sanzo-sama now."

_My, aren't we hypocrites? _Sanzo smirked to himself as he went back again to his room. He couldn't let that bother him and it was easy for him to think so. Those old farts don't have a clue to why he chose to be crowned as their new leader anyway. He doesn't have to justify himself. The role of the high priest Sanzo is a position that his master wanted him to have and it's the least he could do. Being able to pursue something his master loved so dearly is an honor for him. And there are no real requirements to be a Sanzo anyway. His master always told him to be himself. If they have a problem with him, they could just say it, otherwise he'll continue being an asshole.

Sanzo finished his third pack of cigarette for this month. He stared down at it and contemplated about what the last few years after Koumyou-sama's death had given him. Besides the growing nicotine addiction and his bulimia, he couldn't think of other things. Being a Sanzo is boring sometimes but he could still get by when he wants to. Today is like yesterday and the days after that. He's alternating between frequent purges and smoking.

How weak.

"I need my newspaper ready." He called out to one of the young trainees. How many times does he have to remind them?

Her removed his veil and threw it to the bed. He undressed himself and decided that he can take a bath. And shit, breakfast...he can't possibly purge later without anything in his stomach. He can eat lunch and dinner too and maybe purge the next day. He has to watch his habits and make sure they don't consume his time. He can control his bulimia…as long as he's not pissed at something and smoking isn't that cozy for his needs anymore. But he can delay purge the next day. He can do that. He's absolutely sure he can.

Genjyo Sanzo is a type of man who is one with his pain. He doesn't deny his weaknesses. He already collapsed inside and now he has to endure and show it on the outside. He's okay with lung cancer in his later years. Death is fine just as long as he doesn't get killed by anybody. Bulimia is okay too. He doesn't like stuffing himself with food anyway. But he needed to because he wanted to purge. Sick as it sounds, he likes the feeling. Maybe he needs to be examined. But no, not the mighty Sanzo. Didn't he just mention he can admit his weaknesses?

That's walking paradox for you, fucked up as hell.

"Sanzo-sama?"

Sanzo turned around and closed the shower. He shouted back. "What?"

"Your breakfast is ready."

"You can go now."

As soon as he dried himself and got dressed, he sat on his table and grabbed his glasses from the corner. He took small bites from his food as he read on the editorial portion of the newspaper. He glanced around some time and saw that the piece of paper from last night was still on his bed. He glared at it. Somebody is coming to his room and playing jokes on him. He'll find the bitch and shoot him between the eyes.

He was reminded about his Smith & Wesson just inside the drawer. He better clean that later. First he has to deal with the invader and his jokes in poor taste.

He finished half of his meal and walked to the bed to take the piece of paper in his hand. _WHO ARE YOU?_ is still there and still mocking him. He scoffed. Why the hell is this thing bothering him? It's not just the person who gave this but the question itself is...odd...provoking. He didn't like being provoked but this is different. He was curious. He didn't know why.

_WHO ARE YOU?_

"Nut job..." Sanzo walked back to his table to get his gun. He crumpled the paper once again and threw it in the air. With an accurate speed, he shot a bullet through it. He watched it take a hit as it falls down, lump on the floor. He picked it up and removed the bullet, taking his time so he wouldn't tear the paper. Then he looked inside.

_YOU_

It was the only readable thing left written. He scoffed and finally threw the paper out of the window. This is ridiculous. He is pissed. He might not delay the purge. And shit, he's out of cigarettes. Shit...

"Anyone care to buy me Marlboro?" He asked the trainees again who were cleaning. One of them immediately bowed and went away. Sanzo shut the door.

"I'm Genjyo Sanzo. I'm a monk. I have the Maten scripture. I'm an orphan. I'm twenty-three years old. I'm temperamental. I like guns. I like to smoke and gamble. I don't like sex. I don't like people. I'm not fucking pleased with stupid shit. Is that all? Is that what you want to hear?"

He was screaming at the window where he threw the paper away. He felt foolish so he got silent again and waited for his smokes.

_WHO ARE YOU? WHO ARE YOU? WHO ARE YOU? WHO ARE YOU? WHO ARE YOU? WHO ARE YOU? WHO ARE YOU? WHO ARE YOU? WHO ARE YOU? WHO ARE YOU?_

He wanted to know what that question meant. He wanted to know. He just has to. Maybe he's pissed. Maybe he's bored. But he's definitely going to find the person responsible for that paper and that question.

Definitely going to find him.


End file.
